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When Subway runs a $5 for any foot-long campaign, it’s impossible to buy a 6″ sub. They will fight you, lettuce and tomato, until you agree to buy the footlong.

In the past, I have asked if I could simply get double meat on a half and pay for the foot-long. These efforts were met with: blank stares, dropped jaws. Since I’m trying to lose weight, I don’t want to eat the extra bread but I do want to load up on veggies and protein.

My dad suggested that I buy the foot-long and just move the meat over myself. I tried that today.

Going in, I knew that the extra fixings were large enough in quantity that I would probably need about 8″ of sandwich so I asked the sandwich artist if she could leave it a foot-long without cutting it. Being a reasonably intelligent human, I would decide how much bread I needed for the sandwich. I approached the senior citizen Sandwich Artist and attempted the impossible:

“Can we finish this off without cutting it in half?” I asked.

“No. We have to cut it!” she sighed.

“Why do we have to cut it?”

“It’s a rule” she said matter-of-factly.

I leaned in close and said, “How about you don’t cut it and we don’t tell anybody?”

She was shocked at my persistence and tried to reason with me, metal blade poised over my bread. “It is a rule. I can’t break the rules when…” she gestured with hear head to the lady putting some bread in the oven. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Well lets ask her then.” I pressed.

She sighed and yelled back to the manager. “Hey Martha! He don’t want me to cut this sandwich. Don’t I gotta cut it or something?!”

Martha was able to find some brain cells to rub together after making facial gestures that indicated that she had a crazy customer on her hands. She said, “No, you don’t have to cut it. The customer is always right… even when they aren’t right…”

I could have done without the editorial comment, but I had finally won a Subway customization battle!

The veteran sandwich artist was bested by my request. She slammed the knife down and rang my food up with a huff.

Apparently skipping a step like in your sandwich making factory job is enough to throw off your entire operation. She was so messed up at not having used the knife that she picked it back up. When I handed her my credit card she started trying to cut my sandwich in half with the card and began swiping the knife through the credit card reader. When the knife wouldn’t scan she said, “It’s not working, do you have another knife?”

I handed her my keychain with my mini leatherman knife folded out. By that time, my order had timed out or something so she started furiously stabbing the screen with the leatherman knife.

“Carol! Carol! CAROL! STOP IT!” The manager came running over. “Sir we don’t take knives as payment at this location. Do you have another form of payment?”

I handed the manager a ten and was soon on my way.

It turns out that the customer isn’t always right. The moving the meat over idea doesn’t work very well because the sandwich starts to fall apart. I still got it all in my mouth, but not without getting honey mustard all over my hands.

Sometime last year, Subway invented “The Works” where they put each and every vegetable into one single word that is mumbleable at best. Usually you don’t even have to say anything because the sandwich artist will ask you if you want THE WORKS while your sub is toasting. So you can simply mumble mmhmm or uhuh. The less words you use in a Subway, the better. Chips drinks cookie food yum are on the acceptable list of words.

The secret is that Subway invented “The Works” so you can take a nap while you order your food because it prevents the very tedious task of picking out vegetables, one at a time. The only time I ordered the works, I let my head rest on the sneeze guard during the sandwich loading. While I snoozed and drooled on the glass, the subway employees secretly took my wallet and car keys and hid them in the cookie batter and bread dough. I was not allowed to leave until I had made enough cookies and bread to find my keys in the dough. (coincidentally they were both in cookies so my keys and wallet smelled like cookies for a few days! yay!).

Since then I have never ordered The Works again. Whenever I am asked if I want The Works I smash my fist on the sneeze guard and yell so everyone can hear me, “NO ONE HAS EVER GOT THE WORKS BEFORE, STOP ASKING!!”

My Gyro

I appreciate the work of this man. When he ordered The Works, they did not give him The Works. Instead they locked him out of the store and stole his sandwiches and ate them in front of him and dangled cookies in front of the window until he did what any rational person would do – call 911. He rationally explained what happened, only calling THREE TIMES, and waited for police to arrive.

Not only did he not get his food, but he also did not get to go home that night. They arrested him and told him, “Where you’re going, you can get all the 6 inches and footlongs you want.”

Thank you, Reginald Peterson. Maybe now they will stop asking if you want The Works.